


absent friends

by venndaai



Category: Machineries of Empire Series - Yoon Ha Lee
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17417798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venndaai/pseuds/venndaai
Summary: Mikodez reflects.





	absent friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tedronai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedronai/gifts).



> This owes a huge debt to Vass's fic Liking, which I read, loved, and I guess thought "wow, I want to do that too!" because then I wrote this and subconsciously copied the structure of that fic. I hope that is taken as a compliment, because that fic is amazing.

Mikodez, upon ascending to the seat of Hexarch, recieved an honor few Shuos hexarchs could boast of; the opportunity of a quick honest chat with his predecessor. She’d been the one to tell him of the secret behind Nirai Kujen’s immortality. He’d already known Kujen existed, and known that the man was immortal, but he hadn’t known the why, and then later he wondered, whether Zehun had known, and what the reasons might have been for not letting Mikodez in on that.

Zaryun had told him, and he’d thanked her for the gift. She told him as many secrets as she could fit into that five minute chat, and he’d tried his best to listen, and to be kind. Tried not to see his own future in her tears of stress and fear.

"I need a new courtesan," he told Zehun, an hour after his official inauguration. "Oh, don't raise your eyebrows at me, I know you know what I use them for. The one I've been seeing is lovely, but I'm guessing they don't have the security clearance to be in a room alone with me any more."

"Mmm," Zehun said. "Starting to feel restricted yet?"

"I'm just thinking about my predecessor," Mikodez said, irritated. "There was a woman who could have used a trained ear. Not to mention a friend."

"Friends are a luxury a hexarch has difficulty affording," Zehun pointed out. "Particularly on our budget."

Mikodez frowned at them. "I have you, don't I?"

Zehun frowned back. _"Mikodez."_ Teacherly disappointment in their voice.

Mikodez sighed. "I know. Look, just vet someone, can you?"

When he met Kujen, a week later, he was careful to make a casual allusion to the knowledge Zaryun had given him. The meeting took place at the Citadel of Eyes, Kujen apparently not under the same security constraints as Mikodez now was. Kujen had come aboard with only two guards, and he didn’t wear ceremonial robes, choosing instead an understated black suit and cape accessorized by a dazzling display of painfully expensive jewelry. _I could fix a lot of our damn budget problems just by palming that diamond necklace,_ Mikodez thought wistfully.

He invited Kujen into his own quarters, in the hopes that this would unsettle him- or, at the least, that Kujen would expect Mikodez to be unsettled. "It won't work," Zehun had told him dourly, and Mikodez had shrugged. It never hurt to try.

“What’s your poison?” Mikodez asked, by the drinks cabinet. He himself was kitted out in full Will of the Shuos regalia, and it made arm motions a little tricky. The drinks cabinet was Zaryun’s. Mikodez tried not to mix alcohol with his medications.

“Red wine, please,” Kujen said, sliding onto the couch. “The most expensive you have. I always suspected Zaryun of hoarding some really good stuff.”

“Mmm,” Mikodez said, selecting a bottle. “And is that your preference, or your host’s?”

When he turned around his visitor was smiling at him. The diamonds twinkled in the soothing lighting of the living room. “Andan Tseng has a bet with me on whether you’ll survive the week. You’ll win me a small moon if you do.”

Getting the cork out of a wine bottle was sometimes an undignified process, so Mikodez used the penknife on the side table to pry it out. There were a lot of small sharp objects in his quarters. “Really?”

Kujen tilted his head back to laugh. The necklace was a sparkle of stars at his exposed throat. “No. I’m not exactly on casual speaking terms with my fellow hexarchs.” He winked, just a little flicker of eyelid. “I make them nervous.”

“I advise you find someone willing to make that bet,” Mikodez said, pouring a single glass. “I intend to be here for quite a while.”

 

* * *

 

 

Occasionally, over the next four decades, Mikodez would wonder if Kujen had ever found any takers.

 

* * *

 

Diplomatic dinners of state often had very good food, but the conversation was generally tedious. Mikodez’s eyes drifted down the long table, past Shandal Yang’s dedicated seduction of Rahal Iruja’s plus-one, past the Gwa-an ambassador stabbing at his food, down to Faian’s glazed expression as she listened to Vidona Irayal discuss problems of doctrine. Faian’s plus-one, a beautiful young man with curly brown hair and striking amber eyes, appeared to be listening intently. Mikodez waited until the young man noticed his gaze. The man smiled, sweet and stunning, and murmured something in Faian’s ear before pushing his chair back and disappearing into the next room. Mikodez followed.

“What happened to your previous host?” Mikodez asked, approaching Kujen where he stood by a table laden with exotic fruits and glasses of juice that sparkled in the light from the multitude of candlevines. 

“I’m giving him a little vacation,” Kujen said, with a more secretive smile. “Good job recognizing me.”

“I’m sure the others do as well,” Mikodez said.

Kujen shrugged. “Probably, but they like to tell themselves I’ll disappear if they ignore me.”

“I have something for you,” Mikodez said. Kujen looked interested. Mikodez reached into one of the hidden pockets in his robes, and took out the tiny, intricate orrery. He’d thought about wrapping it, but decided against it. Zehun hadn’t exactly commented on the amount of money and, worse, time, he’d spent bidding on the thing, but they’d pointedly not commented on it. 

There was no spark of interest in the amber eyes, no excitement lighting up the dark face, but it wouldn’t have meant anything if there had been. It wasn’t the unfortunate owner of this face that Mikodez was trying to please. 

He ought to feel bad about that. Instead he watched Kujen carefully turn the device over, bring it slightly closer to eye level. He wondered if Kujen was actually seeing through those unusual eyes, or through other means.

“How did you know I collect these?” Kujen asked. “Should I be firing my security?”

“It was an educated guess,” Mikodez said. Extremely educated, but if he was lucky Kujen wouldn't realize how far Mikodez’s agents have been able to get for a while longer.

“It’s a handsome gift,” Kujen said. “How can I repay you?” The words were light but there was sharpness underneath. 

Mikodez smiled at him, very genuinely. “I’m just looking for a friend,” he said, and thoroughly enjoyed the pause as Kujen puzzled at this.

 

* * *

 

 

The Citadel of Eyes was a busy place. Mikodez could slump in the armchair in one corner of his office and listen to the hum of the air recyclers and close his eyes, imagining all the different moving parts, like a cross-section of an intricate machine. The interns jogging up and down the confusingly circuitous corridors, carrying armfuls of reports. The servitors carrying out their endless duties. Each part knowing its place within the whole. All of it working, smooth, well-oiled, and yet so fragile.

“Mikodez.”

Before he opened his eyes, Mikodez indulged in a little moment of fantasy; imagined that his name had been spoken by someone who had, in reality, never visited this office, or any of his offices. Imagined that he would open his eyes and see someone tall and handsome and sparkling in silver and black smiling down at him, that slightly conspiratorial smile that said, _it’s just you and me against all those idiots._

The footsteps on the carpet were light enough, but too slow. Mikodez, with intense effort, raised his eyelids slightly, allowing himself a sliver of vision.

Shuos Zehun wore a heated coat these days, in addition to the hat and scarf that Mikodez had knitted for them. They didn’t shiver, but they did stand like someone who is cold, and does not want to waste energy by moving. As always their face was perfectly unreadable.

“You didn’t meet me for supper.”

Mikodez waved a hand lazily.

“Did you eat supper?”

He didn’t bother to lie, just let his eyes slide closed again. It might have been nice, he thought. To be uncoupled from the tedium of physical existence. He wouldn’t have been able to use drugs any more, but maybe without a body he wouldn’t have needed them. He’d never asked about it. Kujen would have thought he was being given leverage, and that would have been so tiresome.

“I need,” Mikodez said, making himself open his eyes again, trying to focus on the expanse of green wall paint, “to speak to our young friend.”

Zehun’s mouth tightened. They took a step forward, close enough to put their hand on Mikodez’s shoulder. Only very lightly, but he felt it. It had been- quite some time since anyone had touched him.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why,” Jedao asked, “did you like him?”

Mikodez knew how much, how easily he could hurt Jedao if he said: _For the same reason I like you._ He wouldn’t do that. He avoided hurting where he could. And besides, it would only be half true.

He had tried at every opportunity to cultivate a friendship with Jedao- each version of Jedao he had encountered, over the years- for the same reason he had cultivated his relationship with Kujen: because they were warnings, _don’t-do-this_ ’s writ large in letters of blood, and warnings work best when they’re close and easily observed. But Mikodez also wanted to be friends with Jedao because Jedao had that quality Mikodez found most seductive: he could be fixed. And Kujen, paradoxically enough, also appealed in his sheer unfixability.

Mikodez said, “Because he liked me for who I am. For what I am.”

Jedao snorted. “Psychopaths flock together? That’s too obvious.”

Mikodez shrugged, trying to look careless while thinking over his next words carefully. Jedao, he had come to learn, was very resilient in some areas, but on the topic of the former Nirai Hexarch he was still as tender as a new leaf, even a year on. Mikodez was proud, though, both of the fact that Jedao had broached the topic with only minimal encouragement and that Jedao was trying to pry into Mikodez’s psyche.

What part of the truth could he give the boy, and not send him into one of his spirals of self loathing? _Kujen never tried to change me?_ He had changed Jedao, had obsessed over him as a lab experiment, a project. _He didn’t want anything from me?_ He had wanted quite a few things from Jedao, that Mikodez suspected Jedao could never have given to him.

“He was never boring,” Mikodez said instead, and Jedao nodded, almost involuntarily, Mikodez thought. Jedao knew what he meant.


End file.
